


Christmas for Pirates

by snowbellewells



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28047384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowbellewells/pseuds/snowbellewells
Summary: A little attempt at Christmas-y fluff for Captain Swan (around the season four timeline of the show). There are four chapters in which Killian is introduced to some modern Christmas traditions, and he and Emma both finally get to share the holiday season with someone they love.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 14





	1. Tinsel and Twinkle Lights

**Author's Note:**

> I definitely don't own them, I only wish I could see this much sugar-y sweetness played out on the show!

"Swan! What manner of sparkling material is this?" Emma hears her pirate bellowing from the front room of her new cottage not far from Storybrooke's harbor. With a long-suffering sigh and roll of her eyes toward the ceiling, she moves to go and discover what her erstwhile boyfriend has gotten into. Knowing that she really can't fault him for being either oddly concerned or intrigued by everyday things – he is from another century and world – Emma still cannot keep from shaking her head and laughing to herself at his cluelessness. When she re-enters the main room though, she makes a real effort to bite the inside of her cheek and keep a straight face. The poor man is trying to help her decorate for Christmas and appear to know what is going on. However, seeing the marauding Captain Hook with a string of silver tinsel pinched between thumb and forefinger and held away from his body suspiciously, one brow raised in worried inspection, is almost too much for her tenuous composure.

His startling blue eyes rise to study her face, narrowing upon seeing the obvious amusement at his expense that she is fighting to hold in. Clearing her throat, she keeps her voice steady – if barely so – to answer. "It's called tinsel. We put it on the branches of the Christmas tree. It adds…sparkle," she elaborates, already expecting his response.

"Bloody ridiculous bit of string," is his bewildered and half-exasperated retort. "I still don't understand why the tree goes in the house to begin with, now you would have me believe you strew bits of glitter paper everywhere for sheer entertainment?"

"Pretty much," she affirms succinctly with a firm nod. In all honesty, she knows she probably has gone a bit overboard this year with the decorations and Christmas festivities, and that it must seem like a baffling waste of time and energy to someone who has never really celebrated the holiday or even seen it practiced. Still, Emma isn't going to let that stop her. Killian Jones may ask a lot of questions, but his willingness to make her happy, to do all within his power to see that she – and Henry – have anything they could want or need, never seems to falter. She's grateful for it, and hopes that somewhere in his quest to humor them, her pirate will be won over by the holiday spirit as well.

With the furtive knowledge of one who knows she is still withholding the best part of a surprise, she moves to his side, taking up some of the tinsel herself from the box where it is stored, and showing him how to toss it gently over to the tree, so it flutters down to rest haphazardly across the benches.

Shaking his head as if he clearly finds her crazy, Killian wears an amused smirk on his face, but leaves off from avidly studying her profile to turn toward the tree and copy her motions with his own bunch of the silvery streamers. In fact, as is often the case, he becomes concertedly fixed on his task, focused on doing it just so – for her – and tuning out all other distractions.

Soon, Emma cannot help herself, and the next handful of the sparkling strings she grabs, she flings laughingly into his face.

Killian startles backward, before righting himself and brushing the tinsel from his hair and face. "Ah, playing dirty, are you, Swan?" he questions, voice a dangerous, rakish tease of his lilting cadence. His eyes narrow as he steps toward her, hand and hook reaching out to catch her up in his arms.

Whether it is the twinkle of mirth in his eyes, her lighthearted relief at the Shattered Sight spell being broken, the Dark One gone, and all her loved ones still here and safe again, or just some magical amalgam of both those things, Christmas itself, and her joy at finally having someone like Killian to share it with in this way, Emma isn't sure. Instead of questioning it though, she gives herself over to the playful delight that sweeps over her, shrieking and darting away from him to the other side of the tree.

"Don't think you will evade me easily, Lass," Hook intones, ducking and dodging one way and another around the tree as well, just as she is, both of them trying to see who will be first to fake the other out. She has laughingly called it his 'menacing pirate' voice on more than one occasion. All teasing aside, the timber and intent of it more often than not sends shivers skittering down her spine. She is too proud to admit it, though she expects he knows, so she settles for mocking instead.

He is laughing almost as helplessly as she is at this point, though they are still diving and weaving around the room; her staying just out of his reach, and him lunging after her. Finally, dizzily, Emma collapses on the couch, out of breath from the laughter and exertion of circling the small room and avoiding the half-wrapped piles of presents scattered across the floor. Pulling Killian down after her, her giggles suddenly cease and her mouth goes dry at the expression that comes over his face.

"Now I've got you, my bonny girl," he murmurs, voice dropping lower as he actually licks his lips and moves ever closer. "I warned you the penalty of crossing a pirate."

She grins broadly in spite of herself, pleased with the turn of events, and as he lowers his mouth to capture hers, to pillage and plunder, she reaches up to snake her arms around his torso and pulls him down, flush against her, holding him close. Emma is trapped between her pirate and the couch cushions and there is nowhere else she would rather be. A whoosh of air escapes her lungs as his delicious heat engulfs her, and Emma wonders for a second if she has stopped breathing, then tosses the quandary aside, thinking, 'If I have, then what a way to go…'

Several long, luxurious minutes pass, before they finally pull apart, having to draw in air. Killian is the one to right himself and offer his hand to help her sit up too. "Well, Love," he offers sheepishly, brushing a loose tendril of hair off her face gently with his hook and tucking it over her shoulder, "you'll have to forgive an old pirate, but you are quite the distracting treasure. Much more beautiful than any dead stalk of greenery or silver string."

Emma flushes to the roots of her hair and can hardly meet his eyes. She may never grow used to such open adoration, but she has finally come to trust his sincerity. Whether or not she can fathom why, she believes Killian means what he says, and she feels the warmth of it all the way to the depths of her soul. She forces herself to meet his eyes as he brushes a light kiss to her knuckles and holds her gaze unwaveringly. At last, she manages to get a soft whisper past her short-circuiting vocal chords, remembering the surprise she has yet to unveil. "Ah…that may be because you still haven't seen the best part."

Killian cocks his head at her, confusion evident in his handsome features, until she makes her way back over to the wall behind the tree and reaches around to plug in the dazzling white twinkle lights she had wound around it that morning before he'd arrived.

Her dashing rapscallion does look a bit awed at the sudden brilliance of their tree, and his gaze is appropriately reverent as he takes it all in for a moment. She crosses back to sit beside him once more, taking his hand and snuggling into his embrace, content just to be with him, enjoying this bit of calm and taking it all in.

His voice is actually hoarse and soft enough that she barely hears it when Killian speaks once more. "The wonders of your modern world really never do cease," he says honestly. "It truly is a marvel, Emma…" The way his voice caresses her name makes her heart beat fast, but she doesn't speak, sensing he isn't finished, "…but it cannot hold a candle to you."

Emma's breath catches at his heartfelt words, and the lights from the tree swim a bit blurrily in her vision at the emotion he invokes within her. She wants to thank him, to return the sentiment, but words fail her. She merely pulls up his hand to kiss the back of it, and then wraps it more tightly around herself, snuggling even more fully against his side. Somehow she knows that even if she can't speak a word, he understands.


	2. Eggnog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's part two of my little Christmas venture. Hope you enjoyed the first installment, and I would love to hear what you think of this one as well. I won't bore you with more of my rambling, but get right back to Killian and Emma and their holiday exploits!

Emma can hear Killian's hearty laughter and Henry's ever-deepening chuckle coming from the kitchen where she left them as soon as she reaches the top of the stairs. She has only been gone for a few minutes, but Emma has learned by now that it is hard telling what her "boys" can get into in just a short amount of time. The smile gracing her features doesn't falter though. It's good to hear them laughing together, regardless of what mischief they might be causing. She loves them both so much, and they have both been through so much, that all she can wish for them now is happiness and laughter.

Starting down the stairs from her new home's second story, Emma tries to stay quiet, straining to hear any bits of the conversation between them and decipher what they might be talking about together before her pirate or her son realize she has returned. Peeking around the doorway, she has to stifle a snicker at the view that greets her.

Her lanky, inches taller than he seemed just days ago, son has his back to her, a glass of milk in one hand and two or three of the homemade cookies her mother had brought over this morning in the other. He looks as though he has simply been leaning against the island counter in friendly conversation with Killian, but now his head is bowed and his shoulders shake with his continued laughter. The scene, along with Henry's easy good humor, warm Emma's heart, and – if possible – the organ swells to adore her pirate even more for his affection and genuine camaraderie with her son. Though Killian never had much more than she did in the way of family growing up, Emma knows that the man cares for Henry as if Henry were his own, as he would have done for Bae so long ago, given the chance, and he perhaps sees the opportunity to be part of something he never was, to give Henry something he was never allowed himself; if not exactly a father, then someone Henry can turn to, bond with…depend upon.

Emma is not honestly sure if she is more grateful to him for storming into her life and past her walls to sweep them both up, or more delightedly amused at the plight Killian has currently found himself in – once more befuddled and aghast at something their world has sprung on him unawares.

He has quite obviously reared back from the kitchen island in alarmed surprise, and it doesn't take too much effort to deduce what has caused such a reaction. A glass is still clutched in his good hand and there is a comical white mustache on his upper lip. Emma glimpses the carton of eggnog she had picked up on a whim at the market a few days ago, and the pieces fall easily into place. Her pirate is smacking his lips distastefully, looking for all the world like a cat affronted by someone flicking water at it. The bubbling laughter escapes her then, finally slipping out of her control. Both of her men's dark heads whip around when they hear her, as if they have been caught misbehaving, and she relinquishes her hiding place to step into the room.

Henry gives her a sheepish smile as his eyes find hers, the sparkle in his letting her know he had anticipated the reaction Killian is having ahead of time. "He wanted to try eggnog," her son offers with a shrug. "I told him to go ahead. …You weren't saving it, were you?"

Emma shakes her head, waving away Henry's query. "No, it's fine. I got it to share with him anyway," she assures, "though it would appear that may have been a mistake."

Killian gapes at her as if fearing she might have a screw loose in her head somewhere. "You meant for us to enjoy that putrid concoction, Swan?" he splutters indignantly.

She merely quirks an eyebrow at him challengingly, a secretive smirk crossing her face as she makes eye contact with him across the room.

Generally, Killian is exceptionally adept at picking up on her subtle cues; however, at present he seems too disgusted by his first taste of the holiday drink to be observant. He looks as though he is only barely stopping himself from spitting out what lingering taste of the beverage is still on his tongue and rinsing his palate with his beloved rum, which she has no doubt he still carries hidden on his person somewhere. "You expect me to believe that people truly relish such swill? It tastes of raw egg!"

"Poor baby," she croons in mock sympathy, ruffling Henry's hair as she passes her son in order to plant a playful kiss on her sailor's scruffy cheek.

"Bad form, Darling," he murmurs, but though he is still pretending to pout in offense, his smile is warm and teasing in response to hers. She knows he isn't truly upset and goes to run her hand over his shoulders and down his chest. But he startles her by dancing away from her agilely and shaking his head as he moves to put his glass in the sink. "I think not, Love…mocking the poor pirate for what he doesn't know of the modern world, and then wanting to be cuddled." He tsks his tongue at her in mock disapproval, making Henry guffaw once more behind them.

"Serves the pirate right, for getting into things that I haven't had the chance to show him yet," she banters back, and Henry laughs right along with her as well at that.

~~0~~0~~~0~~0~~0~~~0~~0~~0~~~

It isn't until later that evening, after she and Killian have walked Henry to Regina's where he is due for supper and to spend the next couple of days that she returns to the morning's topic of conversation. They are walking back to her house back at a leisurely pace, hand in hand in the dark blue of the Maine evening as scattered snowflakes tumble from the sky around them. Emma curls closer to him, loving the silent scene spread out before them and his calm, solid company, right next to her as he always is. They pause on the stoop while she fishes out her key to let them back into the house, and she pulls him in behind her gently before he can make his practiced gallant offer to head back to the room he still rents from Granny. "Come in for a while, Captain," she purrs, intentionally wearing the sly smile he had missed earlier in the day.

Leaning in to peck a kiss to her tempting lips and follow her lead, Killian gladly returns to her cottage with her, allowing her to lead him where she wishes. It is glorious toe see the change that has come over his love in the last few weeks. No new enemy has emerged – though he is sure one will, given time – and since the Dark One has been banished and she put the very heart back into his chest, Killian has sensed some sort of decision, some certainty in Emma that was not there before. It is as though she has come to a decision and is at peace about it, and he senses that where the two of them stand now is at least part of that shift. He has had the joy and privilege to see her at ease at last, perhaps even settling into what happy and relatively normal can be for her. Though he has never known this tradition of Christmas before in his long life, the softening and tranquility he glimpses in Emma's spirit and the added twinkle in her lovely eyes alone make it worth learning about the unfamiliar holiday, even if it brought him nothing else. It truly is his gift to witness his Swan growing more comfortable and open – to watch much of the pain and care she has always borne lift away.

"Have a seat for a second, okay?" she whispers at the entryway to the living room, motioning toward the couch. "I'll be right back." She slips off into the kitchen gracefully, almost before he can nod and reply.

"Aye, Love, I'll be right here," he affirms, then does as she asks, but not before lighting the fire in the fireplace and taking a moment to plug in the tree as he had seen her do just days before.

Emma returns in mere moments, a candy cane-striped mug in each hand and an utterly mischievous grin curved across her enchanting face.

His arched brow acknowledges her loaded expression, already aware that she has something up her sleeve. Yet he merely pats the spot next to him on the couch and waits patiently for her to reveal what she has in store.

"Why don't you give this another try?" Emma offers, holding out one of the mugs to him and settling in beside him.

"Is it more of that infernal brew from this morning?" he asks, taking the mug from her skeptically.

"It is eggnog, but before you turn up your nose this time, let me explain…" Emma begins. "Yeah, it does have raw egg in it, plus lots of cream and sugar, but there's no accounting for taste. I've always been kinda partial to it…" She is rambling now, and Killian can't help but find it more than a bit adorable. She is actually sheepish at liking something he has obviously found repulsive, and he determines then and there to make sure she knows there is no need for her to feel such self-doubt. He is aware that it is a lingering effect of the way she has grown up in this world, but she must know that he will still find her brilliant, no matter what traditions she wants him to observe or what disgusting drink she asks him to ingest. "…anyway," Emma is saying as he refocuses, "I was hoping to introduce you to the adult version this evening, when Henry wasn't present. I wanted to propose a toast."

"A toast, Darling?" he asks curiously, voice husky and low, sensing that she has grown both incredibly serious and hesitant as well. "To what are we toasting?"

"To us," she murmurs quietly, looking down into her lap and avoiding his eyes, suddenly coy and slightly embarrassed. He is touched by her sentiment, and wants to hear her thoughts, so he doesn't hesitate to carefully bring the curve of his hook to the underside of her chin and tilt her face back up to meet his.

"Do you mean to say you find yourself wanting to celebrate being tied to a dirty, villainous old pirate?" he asks, trying for playful and flirtatious, but finding that emotion chokes him halfway through his words. His eyes search the depths of her gaze, knowing she is not yet ready for 'I love you' but hoping that this gesture is her way of telling him the feelings are there, if not yet expressed.

She lets out a little sigh, almost as if his proximity has stolen the air from her lungs, and blinks at him owlishly for a moment, as if she has to re-gather her wits. The Killian Jones of another time and place would have been gloating on the inside at such a reaction, but now he finds it simply buoys his hope. "Killian…you have to know…you must have some idea. When I said I couldn't lose you too…. You mean so much to me, so much more than I know how to put into words. I wanted you to know, how grateful I am to spend the holidays with you, and toast to a new year…together."

His whole face softens; beaming at her with such devotion and love that she can hardly believe it is all for her and her clumsy attempts at putting what she feels for him into words. "I am eternally grateful to be here with you, Emma. Never doubt that. I will be here as long as you will have me. Thank you for giving me the chance to prove myself."

Her smile is a bit watery as she beams back at him, nodding in recognition of his words, and raising her glass to clink with his. "Cheers," she adds simply, giving him an impish grin.

They both take a sip of the eggnog, and then they glance over the rims of their mugs again, eyes sparkling at one another. "Love, is there rum in this?" he asks smoothly, breaking the serious tone between them and making her giggle gleefully.

Her grin is knowing and contagious when she peers up at him, taking another drink from her mug as she quips. "Why of course there is, Captain Jones. After all, I certainly want my pirate to have a merry Christmas." She actually winks at him, and he growls playfully, taking care to set both of their drinks safely on the coffee table, before tackling her to the pillows and descending on her with ravenous kisses.


	3. Mischief under Mistletoe

  1. Mischief under Mistletoe



"Killian! Can you come in here for a second?" Emma's voice floats to his ears from the front of the house to where he is puttering in the back porch, watching the snow continue to coat the backyard as it rolls all the way down to the iced-covered shore. With a few suggestions and hints from Henry, Killian has gathered that there are gifts to be given in the morning – Christmas Day – and has gone out shopping to be prepared accordingly. He is trying to surreptitiously get his gifts for Swan and her boy, as well as the ones he purchased for each of Swan's parents and a few selected townspeople, wrapped before she sees them and his surprise is spoiled.

However, at the sound of her voice calling him, Killian immediately comes to her aid, not willing to keep Emma waiting. He puts down the box he had just begun attempting to cover in metallic blue paper, whips an old sheet from the nearby laundry basket over his pile of loot and goes in search of his love. "On my way, Swan!" he calls back amiably, fairly certain she sounds as though she is near the front of the house.

Sure enough, his lovely blond lass is standing on a ladder in order to reach the curved upper arch leading from the hall into the cottage's main room when he locates her. Killian stops a few feet back, watching Emma unawares for a moment as she hums to herself, stretching her arms overhead in attempt to attach an odd-looking sprig of greenery to the ceiling above her. He sees no twinkle of lights, bow, or tinsel, and the small piece of plant does not appear particularly striking, but she obviously seems determined to hang it right in the spot she has chosen.

Clearing his throat and stepping forward, Killian intends to announce his presence and ask what she needs, but upon hearing him, Emma turns too quickly in order to speak to him, her head whipping her blonde tresses out over her shoulder and her eyes lighting up at the sight of him standing there. "Oh Killian, there you are! I was just – " but her words cut off abruptly with a startled little gasp as she twists too far, putting herself off balance and scrabbling for purchase as the ladder tilts, and then she is falling.

He is in motion before he even thinks what to do. Years of thinking on his feet and reacting in a split second, diving into life and death situations with others' well-being hanging in the balance, have readied his instincts and reflexes to the point that Killian reaches the foot of the ladder, almost before he even registers moving.

Letting out an 'oomph' on impact, he brings his arms around Emma and catches her against his chest as she falls, wrapping her up tightly and staggering back against the wall for a second before quickly righting himself again.

The air is knocked out of her, and Killian can see that Emma is startled and taking a few odd moments to gather what has happened and how she ended up curled in his arms, her face inches from his in the charged air between them. Chuckling gently, he squeezes Emma closer for a moment before righting her and settling her on her feet again. "That is quite the trick, Swan," he teases lightly, "but I gather that is not what you intended to show me."

Emma leans against his chest for a moment, drawing in a somewhat stunned, shaky breath and letting her arms come around his waist, just as he is still holding onto her. She shakes her head of now-rather-disheveled curls against his shoulder and speaks rather muffledly into his chest, not seeming anxious to pull away from his support. If he is not mistaken, she is trembling slightly, and it causes him to draw her closer still in response. Her words make him smile though, despite her rattled reaction to the near-injury. "No, that wasn't part of my plan," she snorts humorously, finally raising her eyes to meet his as she finishes speaking. "Good thing your reflexes are still sharp, Captain."

He gazes down at her lovingly, unable to keep from tracing a light, reverent finger down the side of her face and letting his thumb trace that same lip she is now biting, lingering with affection in the touch. "That's my job isn't it, saving the Savior?" He winks at her, clearly letting her know the words are meant in playful jest and bends to place a quick kiss to the tip of her nose.

Emma surprises him by bringing her hands up to the sides of his face, framing his cheeks and pulling him even closer until their foreheads touch and they are literally breathing the same air. She kisses him full throttle, for all that she's worth, standing on tiptoes to pull him nearer yet. When she finally allows an inch of space between their lips, she whispers fervently, "You have saved me, Killian…more than you know."

They both find themselves blinking furtively, struck by the raw emotions surfacing. Eventually, Killian finds his voice again, brushing the steel of his hook over her shoulder and down along the soft strands of her hair. "So, Love, what was it that you wished to show me?" His grin is lopsided, still a bit shaky, but his eyes twinkle even if they are a bit glassy.

A smile quirks her lips as Emma gazes back up into his face. "My purpose is already accomplished now," she quips, but then she rolls her eyes upward, indicating for him to do the same, "but still, look up."

Killian's brow does furrow in question at her purpose. "What are we looking at, Love? That tiny bit of plant there?"

She nods emphatically, knowing he is puzzled and unable to hold back a bit of play with him. "That's it. Don't you know what that is, Pirate?" She is actually amazed at her own lightheartedness in his presence. "This is a holiday tradition I think you'll be quite a fan of."

"And it has to do with a handful of leaves and berries?"

"It does," she nods simply, watching his expression teasingly until she finally decides to have pity and explain. Pointing up at the green sprigs tied with a red bow and dotted here and there with pale, white berries, she expounds on the decoration she nearly broke her neck introducing to him, a knowing gleam in her eye as she watches for the moment he catches on. "This particular plant is called mistletoe. People hang it mostly in arches and doorways around the holidays, largely to have some fun with guests. See, the tradition is that any couple caught under the mistletoe together – whether they're actually dating or not – has to kiss."

"Is that so?" Killian smirks, waggling his heavy, dark brows lasciviously and letting his voice drop to a dangerous low rumble. "And you wished to partake in this tradition with me, Swan?" He is leaning over her again, arms snaking around more tightly, reeling her into his magnetic orbit – and even though they have already been kissing, her heart rate triples at his proximity and intent.

"W-well…" she exhales breathily, finding that her hand actually shakes as she clutches at his lapels, feeling the heat and muscle beneath. She means to tease him, but the words come out shivery when she continues, "What else would I do with a handsome pirate boyfriend under my roof for the holidays?"

A growl rumbles through his chest and escapes him as he lifts her off her feet, sweeping her into another toe-curling, breath-stealing kiss. The world spins, and Emma can only think that he had better not put her back down just yet; her knees have turned to jelly and she may well collapse. Then her mind blanks to nothing but the pleasure of his mouth on hers, his hand and hook and the burning hold he has on her. Giving in gladly, Emma closes her eyes to anything else.

She hums in contentment, wanting nothing else in the world as Killian kisses down her jawline to whisper in her ear, "I am in full accord with this mistletoe practice, Darling. Far be it from me to disappoint your yuletide expectations."

She shakes her head 'no', letting out on a whisper, "No chance of that, Pirate. Not a chance."


	4. A Stocking and a Place to Call Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't own them and can only imagine our Captain and his Princess celebrating Christmas in Storybrooke as sappily as I have pictured here.

Killian Jones had thought perhaps he'd finally gathered all the pertinent knowledge of Christmas traditions by the time Christmas Eve had finally arrived. The night was clear and starlit, bathed clean and bright by the new fallen blanket of snow on the ground in the moonlight. It was the sort of night when once, long ago in another life, he would have stood on the deck of the Jolly Roger, able to see all the way the edge of the horizon, enjoying the limitless freedom and navigating by the stars. He would not give up what he had here and now for his beloved ship – nor anything else – but in the stark winter's beauty, for a moment the memory flashed across his mind and took him back to that life on the sea.

It was in that moment which Emma snuck upon him deep in thought and unawares. She slipped her arms around him from behind, snugging her body close against his back and leaning her head against his shoulder. Her voice was no more than a soothing murmur, soft and low, as her hands brushed gently over the planes of his stomach. "What is it, Killian?"

He covers her hands with his own, wishing not for the first time, or even the fiftieth, that he has both of his to clasp and squeeze hers gently in return. Such wishes get him nowhere, and they both nearly paid the price for his wanting more, so he pushes that away and returns what pressure he can, glad she allows him near her at all, that she would even stand so close after all he has done and all she has been through. He cranes his neck to see her a bit better over his shoulder, answering as truthfully as he can without making it seem he harbors any regrets. It has all been worth it to earn her love, and he never wants Emma to doubt that. "Merely contemplating all it has taken to get here," he responds in a tone both contemplative and almost awed. "Once I would have been spending a night like this on the open sea, captain of the finest vessel in all the realms…" he stops to collect his thoughts, but hurries on when her face begins to cloud in concern, "I thought I could expect nothing better. But I was bitter, cruel, lost and devoured by hatred and revenge. To think that I have a whole new life, a purpose for good…and a True Love…sometimes it is almost more than I can fathom."

She rubs her strong, graceful hands up and down his arms, as if trying to generate warmth, and looks him in the eye with such empathy and understanding it nearly takes Killian's breath away. Further words seem completely unnecessary, and so he simply stares back at her, unsure how he has merited such grace and a second chance.

"Somewhere along the line we must have both been granted a Christmas miracle," Emma offers with a smile.

"Aye, mayhap that is the explanation," he agrees, feeling there really might be no other.

"Come here," she urges, wrapping her fingers around his hook as naturally as she ever takes his other hand, and pulling him forward as his heart swells with love for her. "I have something to show you."

She leads him into the living room, past the large bay window, the glowing Christmas tree they decorated together, the couch and recliner, until they stand before the fireplace, looking at the strangely large and elongated red socks hanging from it. "Did you notice these?" she asked.

"Those socks you appear to be drying by the fire?" Killian returned. "I saw them earlier, Darling. What of them?"

"They're stockings," she replies with a chuckle in her voice. "Henry and I put them up a couple days ago. See the names at the top? He opened his presents here a few days ago – before he went to Regina's for the rest of this week – but generally, children hang stockings by the fire in the hopes that Santa will fill them with goodies when he comes down the chimney Christmas Eve night. Even once the children in a family are too old to still believe in Santa Claus, stockings are still put up and filled with smaller, simple gifts. Kids usually start with the stockings when they open their presents on Christmas morning."

"I see," Killian affirms, nodding his understanding. "Well, they are lovely stockings then, Swan." He is still not quite sure why Emma wants him to look at her own and her boy's stockings, as Henry is not present and none of them believe in Santa. Still he plays along, even as his heart pangs slightly to see the two socks hanging there, telling him that though he is welcome with them, they are a family – and he is still merely a guest.

Emma gives him a gentle smile, a look in her eyes that is again so understanding Killian is almost embarrassed to think she may have read his mind. "I'm glad you like them," she prods good-naturedly. "It makes this next part that much easier." She steps away from him slightly to rummage in a bag near the hearth that had previously escaped his notice. His is curious, and still more than a bit confused, until she turns again, holding a third red stocking clutched to her chest.

When she holds it out to him, and he sees his own name across the white cuff, just as Emma's and Henry's are emblazoned on theirs, and she croaks through a throat that sounds suspiciously constricted, "I got this one for you…if you want it…" his breath completely stops in his lungs.

Tentatively, completely speechless, Killian reaches out to take his stocking and holds it reverently, eyes following the letters of his name across the top, and yet not wanting to leave her eyes either, trying to make sure that this means what he hopes, that Emma is serious and this is not all some dream.

"Emma…Love…this is…" his words trail off, failing him at a horrible time in a way they very rarely have. This moment seems so weighted; he cannot bear to risk spoiling it. He feels balanced on a knife's edge – as if the wrong reaction may snatch this blessing from his hands never to return. He wants so desperately to be Emma's everything – as she is his – to be a part of her life always, to be part of her family. It near paralyzes him that he could spoil such an offer of trust from her, that she might yet turn and run. Still, he manages to swallow hard, run his fingers over the glittering name and finally force out something. "This … is the best gift I can remember being given…ever. Are you sure about this, Love? …That you wish me to hang a stocking here with yours and your boy's?"

He attempts to speak lightly, but in truth, it feels the weight of his entire world rests upon her answer. It is not just about the stocking, but belonging here, and being able to call himself home with her. Searching Emma's shining eyes, Killian brings the curve of his hook to her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.

Emma licks her lips, blinks, but she does not look away, nor run, as she once would have. Nodding slightly, she moves to take the stocking from his hand, gripping his fingers in the process. "Yes, I'm sure. It has taken me way too long to tell you this…but I want you here with us more than anything." She moves their hands twined together to pass the loop on the stocking over the nail she has already put in the mantle, hanging it next to hers.

"Then, that is exactly where I shall be," Killian vows, voice husky but resolute. He bows his head slightly to rest his forehead against hers, brushing his nose over the bridge of hers affectionately, wanting nothing more than to hold her close.

"Good." Emma murmurs simply, turning him slightly to see their three stockings hanging together on the mantelpiece. "Because this is where you belong…for Christmas and always."


End file.
